


Cat Shirts and Creepsters

by Kiraly



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Mention of getting hit on in a club, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 10:30:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10695174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiraly/pseuds/Kiraly
Summary: Yuri and Otabek are trying to get ready to go out, but Yuri can't find a shirt to wear. Otabek helps.





	Cat Shirts and Creepsters

**Author's Note:**

> This started as mindless, self-indulgent fluff, and somehow there ended up being a serious part in the middle. Warning for mention of getting hit on by a creepy dude in a club, just in case that's something that would upset anyone. It pretty much ends with more fluff.

"Are you ready to go?" Otabek hovered in the doorway, already wearing his leather jacket. He never came into Yuri's bedroom without being invited. It was cute, sometimes, but right now Yuri was too impatient to appreciate it. 

"Does it fucking look like I'm ready?" he snarled. He was still only dressed in an artfully tattered pair of black skinny jeans. The pile of rejected shirts kept growing.

Otabek raised an eyebrow. "You look good to me but...some clubs do require a shirt, Yura."

Yuri turned away to hide the blush that crept up his collarbone. Even though they'd been dating for a few months, he still turned back into a sappy teenager when Otabek said stuff like that. It was one thing to go around bragging to everyone about his smokin' hot boyfriend, and another thing entirely for said boyfriend to mention that Yuri looked nice that day. So fucking unreasonable.

"I know they require shirts, asshole. What do you think I'm doing?"

"Relocating your entire wardrobe from your closet to your bed?" 

Yuri glared at him. "Fuck off. I don't understand, how is it I don't have  _ any  _ cool shirts? Everything I own is stupid, we should go shopping."

Otabek shook his head. "You don't need to wear anything special, Yura. You'll look amazing no matter what."

"Easy for you to say," Yuri said, "You've never looked awkward a day in your life." He rejected another shirt and stalked across the room to where Otabek stood. "Look at you," he said, poking Otabek in the chest, "You're like some kind of leather-clad music god. The minute we show up they'll all say 'oh look, that must be the DJ, he's clearly cool enough to be here.' But when they see me, they'll think 'oh no, who let this kid in?'"

A smile played about Otabek's lips. "That will be their mistake, then. You're not a child, and you’re much cooler than anyone we'll run into."

"Then get in here and help me find a shirt that will make them realize how cool I am," Yuri said, tugging on the front of Otabek's shirt until he followed. He went back to the small pile of shirts he  _ hadn't  _ discarded yet. Otabek, though, started to dig through the reject pile.

"What are you doing?" Yuri asked, "Those are no good."

"No?" Otabek held up a leopard print off-the-shoulder crop-top. "What about this? You love this shirt."

Yuri did, it was true. He especially loved how Otabek couldn't keep his eyes off him whenever he wore it. But—

"I can't wear that to a club. Some creep always tries to grope me when I wear that shirt to clubs."

Otabek's expression darkened. "What?"

"Okay, maybe not every time. But it did happen once." He didn't like to think about that. He shouldn't have brought it up. Now Beka would be pissed that he hadn't told him, or spend the night glaring at everyone who got near Yuri.

"Yura—"

"Forget it, it's not a big deal—"

"Yura—"

"Beka, it's  _ fine!"  _ The words came out more harshly than Yuri intended. He turned away, hugging his chest and wishing he was wearing a shirt for this conversation. Bad enough that he'd had to deal with the creep; now Otabek had to think about him too. 

Behind him, Otabek sighed. A rustle of fabric, and then something soft draped over his shoulders. It was an oversize hoodie, one he'd 'borrowed' from Otabek and 'forgotten' to give back. He pulled it close before turning back around. "I'm not wearing  _ this  _ to the club, Beka. They'll  _ definitely  _ think I'm using a fake ID."

Otabek's mouth twitched. "Give yourself a little credit, Yura. You look at least fourteen." He dodged away, but wasn't fast enough to keep Yuri from shoving him. "Fine, fine, fifteen."

Yuri quit shoving and pulled Otabek towards him instead. He leaned his head on Otabek's shoulder and wrapped his arms around him. After a moment's hesitation, Otabek did the same.

"I swear you don't have to worry about that guy," Yuri said, after a while. "It was a while ago. It hardly ever happens."

"It shouldn't happen at all," Otabek said. He rubbed circles on Yuri's shoulders, fingers gentle through the sweatshirt fabric. "I wish you had told me."

"You were busy at the booth. And anyway, I can take care of myself." He smiled a little at the memory.

Otabek pulled back and gave him a searching look. "What did you do?"

Yuri smirked. "Let's just say he probably wasn't in any shape to get lucky that night. Or ride a motorcycle. You know how high I can kick."

Otabek winced. "Reasons to not upset a ballerina," he muttered. The worry had cleared from his face, and he held Yuri with his usual loose comfort.

"Yeah." Yuri thought he could be content to stay like this all night, just holding Otabek and letting himself be held in return. But they had somewhere to be. "So about that shirt..."

"I think you should wear this one," Otabek said, holding out the crop top again. "If anyone gives you a hard time, we can take turns kicking his ass."

Yuri laughed and pulled the shirt over his head. "Fine, as long as I get the first one. It's no fun kicking creepy douchebags when they're already on the floor." He scrutinized his reflection. "I still don't look as cool as you," he complained. Maybe he just had to face it; no amount of black clothing or resting bitch face would make him look as badass as his boyfriend.

"Well, I suppose I could try to look...less cool. If it would make you feel better." 

"Beka, I already told you, that's impossible. You always look—" Yuri glanced over his shoulder to see what Otabek was doing, and the sentence broke off. Otabek had shed his jacket and shirt and was digging through the mound of clothing on Yuri's bed. "Uh, what the hell are you doing?"

Otabek held a shirt up against himself to judge the fit. "Finding something to wear. You seem convinced that none of these are cool, so—"

Yuri snatched the shirt away. "You can't wear  _ that,  _ Beka!"

"Why not?" Otabek reached for the shirt, but Yuri held it away. "Because it's embarrassing!" He waved it in Otabek's face. It was a simple black t-shirt with the words 'get me-owtta here' and a stylized cat printed on it. Yuri hadn't been able to resist buying it, but there was no way he was going to let his boyfriend wear it out in public. 

Otabek sighed. "Fine. What about this one?" He grabbed another shirt from the pile and pulled it over his head before Yuri could stop him. It stretched tight over his shoulders, but otherwise fit him like a glove. Yuri swallowed hard and tried not to drool over the shape of Otabek's shoulders.

Then Otabek turned around, and Yuri blushed. "Oh no, not that one!" He hadn't bought this one himself; it had been a gift from Viktor, who said it 'suited him'. Asshole thought he was so clever, making the 'grumpy cat' comparison. But Yuri had to admit, he enjoyed walking around in a shirt that did his glaring for him. Otabek, though...Yuri couldn't handle seeing him in that particular shirt. "No no no, I can't have two of you staring at me all night. Even if your face does match." He tugged at the hem of the shirt. "Off."

"Wow, Yura. You're usually much more subtle about seducing me," Otabek said. Yuri rolled his eyes.

"I am  _ not,  _ asshole! And I'm not trying to seduce you, I'm trying to keep you from showing up for your gig in all of my horrible clothing."

"If you hate these clothes so much, why do you have them?" Otabek asked. He peeled the shirt off—Yuri swallowed hard—and went back to sorting through the pile.

"I don't hate them! It's just..." He wanted to look cool for his boyfriend's gig. Wanted to show up looking like someone Otabek could be proud of, not some random bum off the street. And a small part of him, the part that watched the other people at the club to make sure none of them stared too long at the DJ, wanted to make sure everyone knew that  _ he  _ was the one going home with Otabek. "It's just that I don't really think they're your style."

"Hmm." Otabek unearthed another shirt. "What about this one?"

"Beka..."

"What? It's totally badass."

"It still has a FUCKING cat on it, Beka!"

Otabek shrugged. "So? Half of these shirts do. I want to wear one. Is that okay?" His voice dropped for the last few words, all sincerity.

"You really want to wear one of my dumb cat shirts?" Yuri shook his head. "I guess you can. But Beka—"

"Perfect." Otabek already had the shirt on. It fit him surprisingly well, showing off his muscles without going overboard. And the design on it...well, it was still not cool enough for Otabek, but all things considered it didn't look too bad. He actually made the shirt look cooler just by wearing it. "So, if you're ready, we should probably go." He shrugged his jacket back on and reached for Yuri's hand.

Yuri hesitated. Should he really wear the leopard print top? Was he really going to let Otabek go DJ in a shirt with a laser-eyed cat on it?  _ Oh, what the hell. He looks fucking amazing anyway.  _

"All right," Yuri said. He pulled on his own jacket—more leopard print against a black background—and took Otabek's hand. "But if anyone makes fun of you, come get me, okay?"

Otabek laughed. "Why? Are you going to defend my honor? I might not have your way with high kicks, but I can probably take care of myself."

"No, don't be stupid," Yuri replied. "If anyone makes fun of you for wearing a cheesy cat shirt, I'm gonna show up and prove how wrong they are." He stopped walking and tugged Otabek's hand until he turned to face him. Yuri leaned in close. "After all, I  _ am  _ pretty damn hot. So if I want to do this—" he stretched up and planted a kiss on Otabek's lips, "—then you must be pretty cool, too."

"So you're the cool one now?" Otabek pressed his lips to Yuri's before he could answer. When they pulled apart, he was smiling. "I thought you said  _ I _ was cool. Which is it, Yura?"

"Both, asshole," Yuri grumbled. He tucked his arm in Otabek's and they made their way to the door. "We're fucking awesome. It's too bad for everyone else, really. I already snagged the only guy besides me who can pull off the laser cat look." 

**Author's Note:**

> Going out to bars is not among my favorite activities anyway, but it's even worse when some dude tries to hit on me or touch me when I just want to be left alone. That part of the fic showed up completely by accident, but apparently Yuri wanted to raise awareness. Anyway, this is a sympathetic shout-out to all the ladies, gentlemen, or nonbinary folks who have ever been made uncomfortable by someone in a bar or at a club or anywhere out in public. You all deserve to wear whatever leopard print crop-tops you desire and feel amazing about yourselves without being harassed. <3
> 
> On a lighter note, I can't shake the idea that Yuri owns a million ridiculous cat shirts. I have drawn him wearing a couple of the ones [mentioned](http://worldsentwined.tumblr.com/post/159696652859/what-is-more-fun-to-draw-than-yuri-with-his-hair) [here](http://worldsentwined.tumblr.com/post/159323789579/i-finally-finished-the-fic-this-was-based-on-so-i), and the shirt Otabek ends up wearing is [this one](https://cdn-images.threadless.com/threadless-shop/products/1354/1272x920design_01.jpg).
> 
> Also, I'm on tumblr as [@worldsentwined](http://worldsentwined.tumblr.com/) if anyone feels like chatting. Not too much YOI on my blog, but I'm a friendly mess of Otayuri feels.


End file.
